Broken Hearts
Rebecca Jenshak
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Playlist
Also By Rebecca Jenshak
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2021 by Rebecca Jenshak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Rebecca Jenshak
www.rebeccajenshak.com
Cover Design by Lori Jackson Designs
Cover Photo by Michelle Lancaster
www.michellelancaster.com
Editing by Edits in Blue and My Brother’s Editor
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Created with Vellum
Synopsis
She’s a figure skater. He’s a hockey player. Things are about to heat up on the ice.
Rhett Rauthruss is single for the first time in six years. He’s fresh off a long-term, long-distance relationship and ready to make the most of what’s left of college.
Party with his boys, get to the Frozen Four with his team, and maybe play the field for a change.
Sienna Hale knows a thing or two about heartbreak. She’s a college athlete about to skate for the last time, and nothing is going to throw her off course. Not her worries about finding a job after college, not the whispers of last year’s accident on the ice, and not the cute hockey player who keeps asking her out.
They think they want different things, but when it heats up between them, there's no denying they have something in common—even if it's just for a night.
E-book ISBN: 978-1-951815-12-7
1
Rhett
“Everybody in?” Liam glances into the rearview mirror for the all clear as we pile into the back seat of his truck. He’s got the fun task of chauffeuring his drunk teammates home.
I start to tell him we’re all set, but suddenly my mouth is occupied.
Is it weird to make out with a girl while your buddy is half sitting on your lap? Liam’s truck isn’t that roomy, and there are five of us smashed into the back seat. My hand is at Layla’s waist but also touching Maverick’s ass.
I concentrate on her soft lips and the faint taste of raspberries and liquor. She’s soaking one side of me. The party we were at had a wet T-shirt contest, and Layla was an eager and enthusiastic participant. I thought she was into Jordan, who’s jammed in on the other side of me next to Ketcham, but her lips don’t lie.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and Mav jumps. Or he tries to. There isn’t really anywhere to go. “Woah there, buddy. Aim that thing the other way.”
“It’s my phone.” That’s all I get out before Layla starts kissing me again. Her fingers glide through my hair, and her tongue does laps around my mouth.
When the truck stops, I come up for air. Damn. That was unexpected. The doors open, and Maverick and Ketcham tumble out from either side. The rest of us follow.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say to Liam. Layla is on my heels. I didn’t realize she was coming with me. Though maybe I should have. Looks like the party has moved to our place. I head straight to my room while the rest of the guys grab beers and head out back on the deck where people are hanging. Layla is glued to my side.
I’m tired, but when she starts kissing me again, I don’t protest.
“You’re so hot. How have I never noticed you before?” she asks between kisses. Her hands make quick work of my button and zipper, and she pushes my jeans and boxers down enough that my dick pops out. We’re not wasting any time here.
“You too,” I say, ignoring the question altogether.
She giggles. “Oh my god, I love your accent.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you record my voice mail for me?” She takes off her shirt. Her bra is white and see-through and still wet.
Uhh, what?
“You know, like, Layla isn’t here right now. Leave a message, and she’ll get back to you.” Her head bounces side to side as she mocks my Minnesota accent.
“Maybe later,” I say and motion toward my dick hanging out between us. He’s starting to get shy and call this thing off.
“Oh, right.” She sets her phone on my desk and then unhooks her bra revealing small, perky tits that jiggle as she lowers herself in front of me. Her lips graze the head of my cock, and I suck in a breath through my teeth.
Any reservations I have about doing this—and I have a few—fade to the background. She stands and pushes me onto the bed. While she works on tugging my jeans down over my thighs, not an easy feat, I kick off my shoes and lie back.
Fuck, it’s been a long day. A long two days.
It isn’t every day that a college hockey team makes it past the regular season. In fact, it’s a first for Valley U hockey.
We started partying just after breakfast. No, let me back up. Celebrations for winning the hockey west quarterfinals really began the minute we got back to Valley late last night, but it’s blurred into today. Breakfast and lunch were liquid only, and I’m starting to feel it. I need food and maybe a nap. I wonder if Layla’s got any snacks on her. I want to ask, but my dick is in her mouth, and that seems rude. Plus, if she answers, she’ll have to stop sucking me.
I close my eyes and focus. Food later. How long can this last anyway? I haven’t had a blow job in… so long I’m embarrassed to count backward to find out. And Layla’s mouth is warm and inviting. She keeps popping off and kissing my legs and stomach, and every time she switches the focus away from my dick, I groan.
“That feel good?” she asks as she runs her hands along my inner thighs and kisses my knees.
The correct answer is yes, and that’s what I say, even though I really want her to bring her lips closer to my dick again. She’s got a whole routine—kissing down my legs and then back up, a few quick sucks of my cock, and repeat.
It’s all very sexy and frustrating, but I’ll be honest, I’m starting to lose interest. I plan out what I’m going to eat. We don’t have a lot of food in the apartment. I think there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge. Or there was this morning. The likelihood that’s still left is small. Maybe I can get something delivered or talk one of the guys into doing a taco run.
Yeah, tacos. Tacos will be good.
With that settled, I turn my attention back to Layla. My hands tangle in her hair, and I guide her back north.
“Uh-uh,” she says and climbs up my body. Her hands
wrap around my wrists, and she pins them to the bed above my head. Well, that’s kinda hot. Her tits are in my face, and she’s putting just the right amount of friction on my dick. I grind up into her.
“No hands.” She’s a bossy little thing.
Then she drops back between my legs and continues adoring my thighs. Is this a thing now? Did I miss the memo on foreplay involving a thorough kissing of my hairy legs? Do some guys really like having their calves kissed? I’m clearly not one of them. Or maybe I’m just too drunk to appreciate it.
My mind drifts again—tacos and maybe a Dr. Pepper. I hardly ever drink soda, but man, am I craving one right now.
I pull my hands behind my head and let out a long breath. Now Layla’s massaging my legs, and I’m totally down for that. Hell yeah. Her hands are magic. My limbs relax. I guess I didn’t realize how tightly strung I was. It’s been quite a month.
The hockey season is coming to an end, which means do or die games at every turn. Plus, I just broke up with my girlfriend of six years. We’d been doing the long-distance thing since high school, and it just wasn’t working. I was starting to dislike her, and that made me dislike myself for being with someone I didn’t really like anymore. It’s complicated. When you’ve known someone since kindergarten, you don’t want to get to that point where you dislike them. We have history, and it wasn’t all bad times. It just isn’t right anymore. Still sucks.
Speaking of sucking… or not sucking, as is the current state. My poor underused dick gives up, and I just enjoy the free massage. Layla’s hands are small, but man, she’s got a firm grip, and all the tension slowly leaves my body until I’m putty.
Tacos are really going to hit the spot. That Dr. Pepper, too, because I’m fading. Food and caffeine will be the perfect pick-me-up.
That’s my last thought before Layla’s screech bounces off the walls of my room. “Oh my god!”
My head’s heavy as I lift it from the mattress. She stands in front of me, naked from the waist up and fire in her gaze.
I’m about to ask what’s wrong when my bedroom door flies open. Maverick and Jordan crowd into the doorway, taking in the scene. Their heads volley between us.
“What the hell, guys? Get out.”
Jordan shields his eyes, but neither leaves.
“Is everything okay in here?” Mav asks. “Was that a happy scream, or someone call 911 scream?”
Happy. I think. I look to Layla since she’s the one who screamed. She doesn’t look happy.
“He fell asleep.” She recoils in horror.
It takes me a second to realize she means me. I’m the he in that statement. Fuck. Did I?
They all look to me. I’m still freeballing it. I find my boxers and slip them on, then grab my jeans. I’m hopping around, trying to force them over my thighs as Maverick helps a now crying Layla find her T-shirt and tries to calm her down.
“I’m sorry,” I offer. “I drank too much.”
“Am I that ugly that he fell asleep?” she asks Maverick. His arms wrap around her back, and she buries her face in his chest. Mav gives me what the fuck eyes over her shoulder.
I move closer. “No. It isn’t you. I fall asleep all the time.”
“That’s true,” Jordan says. “Yeah. He passes out every single time we watch game film.”
“You’re comparing me to some boring game film?” She sobs harder. I’m not the only one who drank too much. Layla is drunk girl, ugly crying.
I’m speechless, but Jordan is quick with his words. “No way. You’re awesome. You’re gorgeous and fun. Rhett’s the boring one.”
I’d like to object, but if she needs to believe it’s all on me, then I’m okay with that. Dammit. Did I really fall asleep while hooking up? Or almost hooking up? Or getting ready to hook up? I’ll be honest; I have no idea where that was going. I was either getting the best massage of my life or the worst blow job.
She peeks out from under Maverick’s arm to glance at Jordan. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
He nods. “Absolutely.”
Mav eases the girl in my room toward the door. “Jordie, why don’t you take Layla outside. Maybe the fresh air will help.”
She goes willingly, snuggling into Jordan’s side.
I run a hand through my hair and then give my face a few smacks to wake me the fuck up.
“Dude, seriously?” Mav asks, finally erupting into laughter that has him bending at the waist. “How does that happen?”
“I was tired and hungry.” I lift one shoulder and shrug. Now that I’m clearly not having sex, I need food. “Taco run?”
* * *
“I feel bad. Should I text her?” I ask, unwrapping my fourth taco.
“Nah, I took care of it,” Jordan says, leaning back in the booth and lifting his glass. “The only thing she’s going to remember about today is that she got the best orgasm of her life. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you, I guess.” I can cross Layla off my list of potential hookups. “I’m bad at being single.”
“It isn’t something you can be bad at. Well, unless you fall asleep while a chick goes down on you.” Jordan smirks.
“She was all over the place,” I protest. “My dick was getting very little of the attention.”
Jordan pauses with a taco up to his mouth. “Still. You were naked with a girl. A hot girl.”
“Have you successfully hooked up with anyone since Carrie?” Mav asks.
“Define successfully.”
His dark brows raise. “If I have to tell you what success means, then I don’t think you’ve been doing it right.”
“You need a sure thing,” Jordan says. “And maybe an energy drink.”
“We can stop on the way back to the apartment,” Liam offers.
If these guys are trying to help, I really am in trouble. None of these guys are in a position to dole out advice.
“Nah, I don’t want to go back to the apartment. Can you drop me at the rink?”
“Is that a good idea?” Liam asks. “You’ve been drinking since this morning.”
Last night, technically.
“I’m good,” I say. Whatever alcohol was in my system flushed itself out when Layla burst into tears with my flaccid penis hanging out.
Liam takes me to the arena when we’re done eating.
“I’m gonna drop off Mav, then Jordan and I will come back,” Liam says.
“We will?” his roommate asks, not looking pumped about the idea.
“Fun’s over, buddy,” he says. “We need to get to work.”
Jordan drops his gaze and nods. He had a rough game last night, and we can’t afford for anyone to be in a slump going into the semifinals.
“Later.” I lift a hand as they pull away from the curb.
I shower and change at the rink. The figure skaters have the ice for another fifteen minutes, according to the schedule. With nothing to do, I sit back, close my eyes, and wait. At least no one here will care if I fall asleep.
2
Sienna
The chill of the ice nips at my skin as I skate around the rink. I pull my headband snugly over my ears and come to a stop in front of my friend Josie.
“We’re going over to Olivia and Kate’s house to watch Dance Star, and then we’re going to hit up The Hideout for dinner. I bet the hockey team is there celebrating their big win. Are you coming?”
The rest of the team has finished practicing and exits the ice, and she steps off behind them. When she realizes I haven’t followed, she glances back for an answer.
“No. I think I’ll stay for a little while longer.”
An amused smile pulls up the corners of my friend’s mouth, and she frees her long, blue hair from the ponytail. “Does Coach know you’re staying?”
“I’m fine.” I check my heart rate on my watch. “I just want to work on the spin at the end of my short program.”
“A girl can’t live on skating alone.” She combs through her hair with her fingers.
�
�There’s half of a sandwich and some mini pretzels in my bag.”
“I was talking about boys and alcohol. In excess. Come on, we have three weeks to prepare for the Desert Cup, and your spin is already perfect.”
“See you in the morning,” I call over my shoulder as I push off and glide away.
By the time I make it around the oval-shaped rink, she’s left with the rest of the team. Finally, I’m all alone.
I leave out my earbuds and enjoy the sound of my skates moving along the ice. Closing my eyes briefly, I let all my senses absorb this moment. Even the echo throughout the arena as people go in and out of doors is a welcome sound.
College is a hard place to find any solitude. And ice time is difficult to come by. I’m soaking it up and really appreciating it when I realize I’m not completely alone.
Rhett Rauthruss, one of the Valley U hockey players, sits in the first row near the tunnel to the boy’s locker room. Leaned back and slumped down in the seat, he’s dressed in a gray T-shirt and black athletic pants instead of the full pads and gear the hockey team usually wears. One skate crossed over the other, eyes closed. The rest of the team is nowhere in sight. I skate around twice more before I stop in front of him.
His dark blond hair falls over one side of his face, and his chest lifts with deep, even breaths. I grab the hockey stick resting near his feet and poke him with it.
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